And so here we are at the presumable conclusion of a 5 strip story arc centered on a “friendly” tennis match between Les and Bull played in Westview, Ohio. It ends with one character welcoming the certainty and nearness of death. Of course it does…

There actually is something of a consistent theme with Funky Winkerbean lately: Everything in life is misery and agony, except for comics. Just stay home in your attic, read your comics, and have your woman bring you cookies and milk.

If there’s anything worse than a smug, gloating, victorious Les, I sure as hell don’t want to see it or even know about it. My God he is so far beyond insufferable. Hope that’s it for him and ditto Bushka, who gets really annoying himself after more than a day or two.

Here, Bull yearning for sweet, sweet Death and freedom from pain, anguish and Dick Facey. On the other side, Ed’s mush mouth leads to a Three’s Company plot that has people think he blew a fortune on the stock market.

This strip also reveals that Batty knows nothing about athletes. The skill set that would have made Bull a good football player, size and strength, wouldn’t be useful and could actually work against him in playing tennis. But maybe that’s the point. Could this be Batty’s long-promised arc addressing bullying with Les as the town bully?
(No, that would take too much work.)

I find it hard to believe that anyone, out of the blue, would send Tom Batiuk a bunch of hand-made wooden comic book covers. I just can’t see someone looking at his labors and saying, “You know who would really appreciate these? Tom Batiuk!”

It would not surprise me to learn that said person was a friend of Tom’s, and Tom asked him for help with material for his blog.

If there’s anything worse than a smug, gloating, victorious Les, I sure as hell don’t want to see it or even know about it.

This is even worse. Les is smug and gloating as and after Bull throws a violent temper tantrum. I don’t know if Batiuk has ever been around someone who’s gotten so angry over playing tennis that he has destroyed his racquet, but it’s not something to just smirk at and smugly look on. It’s either a mortifying or terrifying experience. You don’t break your racquet just by dropping it or throwing it on the ground. You have to smash it as if you were trying to beat someone or something to death with it.

This week was just gruesome. “Bull might be having a heart attack. Bull might be losing his mind. Bull went into a prolonged screaming rage (that’s the only way he could have destroyed his racket). Now Bull wishes he was dead.” And Les is laughing at him the whole time. This is sickening stuff.